


Chicken Soup for the Soul

by bioloyg



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bedsharing, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I fucked up - this was supposed to be a drabble, M/M, Nurse Bucky Barnes, Pining, Sick Fic, Sick Sam Wilson, Taking Care Of Sam, Winter Falcon, bucky pov, it's mutual though, where did I go wrong, with a side of:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8675500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioloyg/pseuds/bioloyg
Summary: “S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm.Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.”Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?”“Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute.~A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I even have an explanation for myself this time, just know that things got out of hand and this wasn't supposed to be over 1k
> 
> Enjoy lmao

 

There’s a noticeable gap in the conference room; the chair across from his, the one beside Steve. Empty.

Bucky lets out a quiet sigh and taps the table in thought, wondering what on Earth would keep Sam from coming to one of their meetings. He  _never_  misses a meeting, and as such Bucky has never been forced to pay attention to these meetings in full. He and Sam almost always antagonize each other - as good friends are wont to do - and even when they’re well behaved they still have silent conversations about the state of the world based on the mission reports.

So, having Sam’s seat at the table be left vacant is like having a gear missing in the machine. The day just doesn’t work the same without it, without  _him_.

“ _Barnes_ ,” Natasha says, catching his attention. “Did you hear what I just said?”

He takes one last look at Sam’s seat and absently responds. “Yeah. Guillermo’s goons have a freight ship full of goodies headed into port sometime this week, I got it.”

She looks at him with pointed scrutiny and then turns back to the slide she was presenting from. With her attention off of him, Bucky looks to Steve and silently motions at Sam’s chair. Steve looks at it and frowns, then mouths the words, “ _He’s sick_.”

Bucky’s nose wrinkles. Sam Wilson, sick? In all the years they’ve known each other Bucky’s not so sure he’s ever seen Sam get sick. At least, not so sick that he skipped out on meetings. He’s seen Sam with a quiet cough, or a runny nose, but Sam’s always powered through it.

A string of worse case scenarios pop into Bucky’s mind. What if Sam is so sick he can’t move? What if Sam is in one of those gross sick comas where you sleep through 3/4ths of a day. He scowls and turns back to the presentation, scolding himself. He always does this when Sam deviates from his everyday routine. _Worries._ Bucky reminds himself that Sam is an adult, and that after coming to work sick so many times before he’s earned a day or two off. In fact, he’s  _glad_  Sam stayed home. It’s near impossible to get the guy to do something for himself.

Still, Bucky is a little bummed. It takes a conscious effort for him not to pout. He  _likes_  Sam. Sam is fun. More fun than anyone in this conference room anyway. Plus, Bucky enjoys what little time they spend together outside of missions they go on. In fact, he was hoping that he and Sam would be going to check out this freight ship together. Stakeouts with Sam are... nice. Anyone else and Bucky feels like he has to uphold his image of stony silence. Even with Steve there’s a certain air of poise Bucky has to keep about himself lest Steve ask him if something is wrong.

Sam just gets it.

Bucky sighs causing Steve to look at him with an eyebrow raised in question. Bucky shakes his head, mouthing _Nothing_ , and goes back to focusing on the report.

~

Five days.

It’s been five days without a word from Sam, and nobody else seems to be as bothered by it as Bucky is. No one is questioning it, no one is worried. It’s bizarre.

Bucky realizes he’s in deep when he misses Sam for more than just his witty one liners. He misses Sam’s _presence_ , just having him around.

Bucky rubs his thumb and forefinger over his eyes and groans.  _Fuck_.

~

On day six, the itch under Bucky’s skin has become so aggravating that he caves and goes to Sam’s apartment. He very rarely shows up unannounced, and when he does it’s usually because of some bad dream that dredges up memories he’d rather not address. Sam is good at distracting Bucky from the ugly parts of himself when it counts while still forcing him to address them later.

For a moment Bucky stands outside Sam’s apartment thinking about how he should’ve brought soup or something. He shakes his head. He’s overreacting again.

Bucky knocks on the door and waits for Sam to open it, but there’s no response. He knocks again and waits a few minutes. Still no response. With a sigh, Bucky knocks one last time and when Sam doesn’t open the door Bucky turns to the glass case housing the fire extinguisher at the end of the hall.

He opens up the case and feels around on the roof for the key taped to it. Once he’s got it he pulls and picks off the tape stuck to its edges. Outside Sam’s door again he hesitates. Sam said to only use this in case of emergency. Does this qualify? Is being concerned an emergency? Bucky gives a mental shrug and then opens the door anyway. He’ll bullshit his way out of this if he gets himself in trouble.

As soon as he opens the door he frowns. There are tissue boxes strategically placed in a few different places, and the air smells stale. There’s no sign of Sam in the living room except for a few discarded tissues wadded up by the couch, and the kitchen is empty too, save the pile of dishes in the sink.

Bucky hears a cough and straightens out, quickly following the noise. He tracks it to Sam’s bedroom and finds the man in question huddled up in the middle of his bed with what looks like three different blankets, asleep. There’s a wealth of tissues in here too, and a couple of half empty water bottles.

For a second Bucky considers leaving Sam be, just turning around and going home, but something about that seems like the wrong thing to do. So, he doesn’t. He takes a deep breath, backs his way out of Sam’s room, and closes the door. And then he cleans up.

He does the dishes, clears up some of the trash hanging around, and starts a kettle so he can make Sam tea. He digs around the pantry while the water heats up and plucks the chamomile tea from one of the shelves. After searching around for honey and lemon, he sets those aside and goes to the other room to lounge for a bit.

Sometime around three, when the tea is still hot but long since finished, Bucky hears a slight rustle. He looks up from the book he was reading and finds Sam, swaddled in one of the three blankets he’d wrapped himself in earlier. He looks pale and tired, and his nose is a little red.

“Bucky?” he croaks, confused. “How long have you been here?”

Bucky looks down at his watch and then shrugs. “Only an hour and a half.”

Sam frowns and then looks at the living room. “Did you clean?”

“Figured you could use the help.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

Bucky takes a deep breath. He and Sam don’t usually - they don’t express affection the same way other people do. So, explaining this with sincerity almost feels frightening. Like Bucky is exposing how he  _actually_  feels about Sam. He sticks a torn piece of paper in the book to save his page and then sets it down. “I came to check up on you. You’ve been out for a week.”

A small smile forms on Sam’s face. “Missed me that much huh?”

Bucky frowns and does his best to seem put off by that idea despite how accurate it is. “Not one bit. I did miss having someone else back me up when Steve does something stupid though.”

Sam laughs but it turns into a coughing fit. Bucky sighs and then stands up to guide Sam to the couch. “Sit.”

“I’m fine,” Sam rasps before coughing once more.

Bucky looks at him. “Yeah, you sound  _great_.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Coughing is good.”

“Being out for a week isn’t though.”

Sam lets out a breath and it rattles. He looks up at Bucky and says, “Arguing with me isn’t gonna make it any better you know.”

“No, but the tea I made might.”

Sam’s face softens and his eyebrows fall. “You made me tea?”

Bucky turns toward the kitchen to make Sam a cup. “You’re  _sick_.”

“Doesn’t mean you had to make me tea,” Sam mutters when Bucky comes back. He grabs the cup with two hands once it’s within reach and sighs, appreciative. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Bucky says. “If you need anything else let me know.”

Sam buries his face in the tea and then says something that Bucky doesn’t quite catch. When he says as much, Sam replies with, “It’s nothing.”

~

Everything is fine until Sam asks Bucky for his help with something -  _awkward_. Bucky looks at the bathtub and then back up at Sam. “What?”

Sam tries to take a deep breath and then looks up at the ceiling. “Will you help me take my shirts off? My muscles are on fire and I’d like to minimize that as much as possible.”

“And you’re gonna shower?”

Sam scrunches his eyebrows. “Uh, yeah...”

“Wouldn’t a bath be better?”

Sam sighs. “If I felt like running one, yeah.”

“Then let me run it.”

“What?”

“ _Let me run you a bath_.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asks. “Because I feel like you’ve been body snatched. Where’s the  _real_ James?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and nudges Sam to the side. He turns the faucet til the water runs warm and then stops up the tub. “Believe it or not, I  _am_  capable of being friendly.” He grabs the epsom salt from beneath Sam’s sink and then says, “Y’know. That thing that friends do - look out for each other?”

Sam tilts his head. “Oh, I know; I’m just surprised you’re doing it for  _me_.”

“You  _are_  my friend, and I  _do_  care about you,” Bucky mutters as he dumps a half cup of salt in the water. He pushes himself off the side of the tub and then motions at Sam with both hands. “C’mere.”

“What is it now, are you gonna feel my forehead again?”

Bucky shoots him a look. “No, I’m gonna help you take your thirty shirts off like you asked.”

“There are only three,” Sam says, indignant.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get over here so I can get you undressed and into the bathtub.”

Both of them pause. Bucky opens his mouth to say something about his choice phrasing, and Sam looks like he wants to say something too, but neither of them do. Thankfully. Bucky’s not sure what he would’ve said to mend the phrase, “ _so I can get you undressed.”_

Sam shrugs the blanket on his shoulders to the ground and holds his arms up enough to slip them out of the long sleeves of the over shirt. Bucky rucks up the bottom of it and drags it up and over Sam’s body. It feels oddly intimate. Here he is, standing in Sam’s bathroom, helping him undress. It’s like they’re in a little bubble, all on their own.

Bucky catches himself staring at Sam and looks down. “Next two, c’mon. Just take ‘em off together.”

Sam snorts. “Yes, sir.”

The tips of Bucky’s ears go red and he clears his throat, helping Sam with the last bits of clothing he has on. He pauses when he sees one of the cuts on Sam’s collar bone - from their mission in Italy. He doesn’t even realize he’s running a finger over it until Sam shivers.

He pulls his hand away and steps back. “I’ll uh - leave you to it.”

Sam looks at him, and the way his eyes look, the way his _face_ looks… There’s something about it Bucky can’t quite parse. “Yeah, thanks,” Sam says, distant.

~

After Sam finishes his bath, and after Bucky helps him get dressed again (painfully), he plops himself down on the couch. Sam shivers and Bucky figures that the perfect time to grab the blanket he stuck in the dryer. Sam looks at him like he hung the moon when he drapes it over his shoulders, but briefly. Then he closes his eyes and lets out a low hum, dragging it the rest of the way around him. He looks so comfortable; Bucky wants to hold him. He wants to kiss Sam better and cuddle with him on the couch and -  _wow_  he’s not quite sure when his feelings for Sam stopped being pointed and started being so... soft.

Sam looks back up at him with a questioning look on his face. “You gonna sit down?”

Bucky opens his mouth, wordless for a moment, then says, “No I - I think I should go. Don’t wanna overstay my welcome.”

Sam almost looks mildly disappointed. “Okay,” he says. “You wouldn’t be overstaying your welcome though.” He turns back toward the TV and leans forward to grab the remote.

“If you want me to -”

“If  _you_  want to,” Sam says back, interrupting Bucky’s thought, “then you should stay. But, you don’t have to. I won’t be much of a host. I plan on watching X-Files and sitting on the couch for the rest of the day.”

Bucky lets out a short huff. “Sounds a lot more eventful than what I had planned.”

“And what was that?” Sam asks as he flips through Netflix.

“I was gonna go home and watch paint dry.”

Sam shakes his head and turns around. “Come on dork. If you’re nice I’ll order you takeout.”

~

They get through about four episodes before Sam falls asleep. On Bucky, of course.

Bucky looks at where Sam is smushed up against his side and then back at the cups on the table before them. He toes the table away slowly so he’ll have space to stand without face planting and then says, “Time for bed.”

Sam hums something but makes no move to bring himself there, which Bucky expected. He lets out a low breath and then scoops Sam into his arms before standing. Sam blinks the sleep from his eyes then. “Where’re we goin’?” he mumbles.

Bucky readjusts the bridal hold they’ve got going and says, “ _You_  are going to bed.”

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm.

Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.”

Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is  _cold_. I was so warm, why’d you move me?”

“Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute.

“ _Fine,_ but you owe me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sam says around a yawn.

When Bucky tries to set Sam down on the bed he’s met with a melodramatic hiss. “Cold ass bed. Don’t stick me on this.”

“Ugh,” Bucky grunts. “I can’t warm up the sheets on your whole bed, Sam.”

“Coulda left me on the couch.”

“You would have been  _uncomfortable._ ”

“Nuh uh, I was laying on  _you_.”

“What do you want me to lay with you in bed?”

Sam’s grip on his shirt tightens for a moment before he says. “No I - you’re just warm. And rude.”

Bucky laughs and then puts Sam the rest of the way down. “I’m the worst.”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees as he buries himself in blankets.

Before he can get fully situated, Bucky says, “Move over.”

“What?”

“You heard me, I said  _move over_.”

“Did I miss the please in that sentence?”

Bucky lifts the covers abruptly. “No, because you’re moving so my rude ass can keep you warm until you fall back asleep.”

Sam looks up at him. “Really?”

“You’re the one who keeps complaining. I won’t hear the end of it if I leave while you’re cold still.”

“I’m starting to think you’re fucking with me.”

“I could always leave.”

Sam scowls. “Whatever, just get in.”

Bucky laughs and crawls in beside Sam. “Turn.”

“ _You_  turn.”

“Listen, if you want me to keep you warm you have to turn.”

Sam’s brow furrows. “What are you gonna spoon me?”

“Do you want me to keep you warm or not, Sam?”

“Ugh.” Sam turns, dramatically Bucky might add, and then lets out a put upon huff.

Bucky ignores it in favor of fitting himself along Sam’s back. He drapes his right arm over Sam’s middle and tugs him close before whispering, “Now go to sleep so I can  _leave_.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” Sam says, yawning once more.

“M’not hearin’ a thank you.”

“I’ll say thank you when I get my please.”

Bucky laughs. “You’re awful mouthy for someone who’s sick.”

Sam elbows him and says, “And you’re awful chatty for someone who wants me to sleep.”

Bucky blows on the back of Sam’s neck just to be obnoxious and earns himself another jab in the ribs. Still, it doesn’t take Sam long to fall asleep.

While Bucky  _did_  want to help Sam get back to sleep, he has to admit his motives were a little skewed. He’s enjoyed this physical closeness. He and Sam are usually on a strict  _we don’t touch unless we’re sparring_  basis. There’s the occasional contact when they patch each other up in the middle of a mission, but other than that they tend to stick to themselves.

And yet, here they both are in bed together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Bucky, fitting along Sam perfectly, and Sam with an arm over Bucky’s, keeping him close. It almost makes Bucky’s heart ache a little.

He squashes that feeling down and then slowly pulls his right arm from Sam’s grasp so he can leave. He’s just about to make it when Sam’s grip tightens, becoming vice-like. He mutters something in his sleep that sounds a lot like, “ _No_.”

Bucky weighs his options. He could stay here in bed with Sam,  _in jeans_ ,  **or**  he could go home and wear sweatpants and pretend he isn’t thinking about Sam when he touches - 

Buck lets out a low groan and squeezes his eyes shut. This is a lose-lose situation. Either way he’s gonna be gone on Sam like some lovesick puppy. He might as well choose the route that allows him to be close to Sam for as long as possible. So, Bucky lets out a deep breath and worms his way back to his original position, pulling Sam up against his chest once more.

Sam lets out a soft sigh, and fits his hand over Bucky’s.

~

Bucky wakes up when a phone at the bedside table starts buzzing. He unthinkingly picks it up and says, “Hello?”

“ _Bucky?_ ” The person on the other line says. They sound a lot like Steve.

Bucky rubs a hand over his face and sleepily says, “Steve?”

“ _Yeah_  -  _I was just calling Sam... on **his**  phone.”_

Bucky wakes up a little bit more then and realizes the phone in his hand isn’t his own. He says, “Um, he’s asleep.”

“ _Uh huh. Wanna explain why you’re at Sam’s place with his phone?”_

 ** _No_** , is the first thing his brain says, but that’s not a suitable answer so Bucky pulls something out of his ass. “I brought Sam soup last night and we watched movies, and then I fell asleep on the couch. Thought this was my phone.”

“ _Mm_ ,” Steve replies, sounding disbelieving at best. “ _Well tell Sam I called when you’re done sleeping on the couch.”_

Bucky looks down at where Sam is resting on his chest. “Sure thing.” He hangs up the phone without a goodbye and then puts it back on the nightstand.

He lets his head hit the pillow and then looks up at the ceiling with a sigh. He needs to get up. He needs to leave without waking Sam up. It shouldn’t be hard considering the things he used to do - the person he used to be. He made a name for himself by fading in and out of spaces like a ghost. Somehow he’s having trouble doing the same here. Silently, Bucky wonders if leaving a pillow in his stead would work.

Probably not.

He lets out a long breath and settles for confessing to his little sleepover, if only to make himself look less guilty. He takes one last look at Sam’s sleeping form and begrudgingly wakes him.

“Hey,” he says quietly as he rubs a hand up and down Sam’s back. “Time to get up so I can move.”

Sam sucks in a deep breath and then opens his eyes slowly. He looks confused, pats Bucky’s chest like he’s surprised it’s not a pillow and then looks up abruptly. “Bucky?”

“Sam.”

Sam rubs a hand over his face. “What are you doing here?”

“You held me hostage, remember?”

Sam lets out an amused huff and says, “I distinctly remember telling you that you didn’t have to stay.”

“Yeah well sleeping you didn’t seem to be in agreement, because  _he_ wouldn’t let go.”

Sam closes his eyes again and makes a wounded sound. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, your bed is comfortable.”

Sam laughs and it turns into a cough, and Bucky unthinkingly rubs his hand against Sam’s back again. Sam sighs into the touch and says, “I know, that’s why I bought it.”

After a moment he pushes himself up and looks down at Bucky. Bucky takes the opening and uses it to sit up a bit. “Feel any better?”

Sam considers Bucky for a moment, like there’s something he wants to ask. Instead he says, “Yeah, thanks.” He pulls away when he realizes he still positioned over Bucky. “Oh, yeah. Uh, you can leave if you want. I didn’t mean to keep you here all night.”

Bucky looks at Sam and says, “It’s like you said, I could’ve left. Besides, you looked cold.”

“Yeah...”

“You gonna be okay for the day?”

Sam seems to snap out of some sort of thought then. “Huh? Oh right, yeah I’ll be - I’m fine. Really.”

Bucky nods. “Alright. I’ll see you whenever you get back.”

Sam’s gaze follows Bucky all the way to the bedroom door. “Yeah.”

~

Things go back to normal then. Well, as normal as a world with mutants and sentient hunks of metal can be. Sam eventually comes back to work, though he still looks a little weary, and the world keeps spinning like it’s supposed to.

But at night the world seems to spin backward - makes everything feel like it’s inside out. Sleeping alone in bed feels a little bit off to Bucky, even after a week. Sometimes sleep just doesn’t even come.

It’s on one of those nights, where Bucky is camped in front of his TV watching infomercials between late night documentaries, that he hears a knock at the door. He looks back at the door after muting the TV, curious. Another knock sounds against it, and this time Bucky gets up to answer it. What he finds on the other side of the door is -

“Hey,” Sam says.

“Hi,” Bucky replies, surprised. “What’s up?”

Sam stares at Bucky for a moment, hard, like he’s looking for the answer to something. Then he says, “I couldn’t sleep. Too cold.”

Bucky wets his lips and tries to ignore the way his stomach swoops. “Do you want to come in?”

“Can I?”

Bucky steps aside and motions for Sam to come in. He shuts the door behind him and locks it, and when he turns back Sam is still staring. Neither of them say anything, but Sam still looks like he wants to - like there’s something looming just behind his pursed lips.

Finally, he says it. “Why did you really come over that day?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and crosses his arms, protecting himself. “Because you were sick.”

“Then why did you stay?”

“Because I care about you,” Bucky says, short and flat.

Sam nods and pulls his hands out of his jacket pocket. He looks down at them for a moment and says, “And when you stayed the night?” He looks up expectantly, his eyes focused like a raptor.

Bucky’s never felt like prey before, but he does right now. He wouldn’t really mind being consumed though...

“I was cold too,” Bucky says.

“Are you still cold?” Sam asks.

Bucky steps forward, until he and Sam are within inches of each other. “I’m freezing. How ‘bout you?”

Sam looks up into Bucky’s eyes. “Same.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and says one last thing, letting his arms fall. “Do you want me to get you something to warm you up?”

“Please,” Sam says.

And that’s all Bucky needs to hear. That magic word. The one that breaks the damn and floods Bucky’s whole body with a warm pleasant feeling that can only be ignited when he touches Sam.

Bucky drags Sam toward him the final few inches and presses their mouths together, firm and unrelenting. A small noise escapes him, and Sam swallows it as he captures Bucky’s lips with his own again. He slides his hands around Bucky’s waist and artfully sticks them up his shirt.

Bucky hisses and says, “You really are cold,” between one kiss and the next.

Sam hums as their tongues meet and digs his fingers into Bucky’s back. When Bucky prompts him to, Sam jumps up and circles his legs around him. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth and says, “Told you.”

“This conversation is a minefield of euphemisms,” Bucky says with a sigh. 

He runs a hand up Sam’s back and down again. “Wanna join me on the couch?”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “To do what?”

Bucky kisses Sam once more. “To watch TV. I don’t put out on the first date.”

Sam ducks his head and laughs. “Neither do I.”

“I could be persuaded though,” Bucky whispers as he walks them over to the couch.

They don’t really watch much TV after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi my name is Charlie and I make bad decisions. Namely, not being able to keep what are supposed to be short fics _SHORT_.
> 
> If you enjoyed my inability to be quiet, please consider leaving me a comment <3
> 
> Follow me [@zamnwilson](http://zamnwilson.tumblr.com)


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